


Face Front, Looking Out

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Muse [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist!Kaner, College-hockey-player!Tazer, Coming In Pants, Exhibitionism, M/M, Nude Modeling, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Jonny had applied for every damn job he was qualified for, even the "life model" one TJ goaded him into.<br/>So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.<br/>So, as it turned out, it wasn’t some random chick that was going to draw him.  It was some random dude.<br/>So "life model" apparently meant "nude model."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face Front, Looking Out

**Author's Note:**

> The word doc was titled 'surprise nude model jonny,' so that's about the level of seriousness you should expect from this. Set in a nebulous AU where Jonny's a college hockey player, and Kaner's an artist going to the same school. That's pretty much it.
> 
> I do not represent the people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

Jonny needed a job, okay, that was the only reason he was doing this.  And TJ said that he always thought he was too good for jobs like a server or barista so that’s why he didn’t have any job at all, but that was a fucking lie.  So TJ had bullied him into applying for every job on the student jobs board that he met the minimum qualifications for.  Which was almost all of them.

Which was the “life model” position.

Jonny had tried to say that he didn’t qualify, because he didn’t know how to model, and he didn’t know anything about art, _and aren’t I too buff to model, Teej?  That’s what they said about that one guy on that model show you watch_.

To which TJ had pointed at the bottom of the listing, where it said “no experience required,” then said, “It’s America’s Next Top Model, JT, and that’s because he was trying to become a high fashion model.  This is just having some random chick draw you.  Calm your tits, dude.”

So Jonny had applied.

So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.

So, as it turned out, it wasn’t some random chick that was going to draw him.  It was some random dude.

“Patrick Kane,” the guy had said when they met, holding out a hand with pencil smudges all over his palm and up his arm.

“Jonny Toews,” Jonny replied, shaking his hand.  Patrick was looking him over, sharp blue eyes taking in every inch of his body.  And then he whistled.

“Yeah, you’ll do great.  You’ve got a good body under there, I can tell.  I mean, I recognized your name when you applied, from the hockey team, so I knew you’d be fit, but _man_.”

Jonny flushed, rubbing the back of his head.  “You recognized my name?”

“Yeah?  I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

Jonny shrugged self-consciously.  He did get recognized around campus, yeah, and at parties he mostly just had to introduce himself to make a girl interested in hooking up.

“All right,” Patrick said, after a beat of silence.  “I’ll show you my workspace.  I’ve got a nice setup for you, nice and warm and bright and comfy.”

“Um, good,” Jonny replied, following Patrick through the entryway of his apartment, and into the second doorway on the right. It was obviously meant to be a bedroom, but was instead decked out with racks of canvases and paper pads, a large wooden easel, and an armchair with a blanket thrown over it in front of the window.  There were shelves of sketchbooks and boxes of paints, brushes, pencils, charcoal, and a bunch of other things that were obviously artistic but Jonny didn’t know the use of.

Patrick gestured to the armchair.  “That’s your spot.  You can hang your clothes up behind the door.”

“My clothes?” Jonny asked, his voice embarrassingly high.

Patrick looked over at him and blinked.  “Yeah?  I mean, you’re a life model.  That means nude.”

Jonny’s cheeks flamed pink.  _Fucking TJ_.  “Umm, I didn’t know—”

Patrick smiled wide.  “Hey, don’t worry about it!  How about today you just take off your shirt, and we’ll work our way up?  If you’re comfortable with that, I mean.  I’d love to have you as my model, but if you don’t want to…”

“No,” Jonny said quickly.  “No, that’s all right.  I’m not uncomfortable, really, I just wasn’t…expecting it.”

Patrick bobbed his head, going back to fiddling with his easel.  “Yeah, dude, I totally get it.  Don’t worry about it.  Just top off, and sit in the chair.  Make yourself comfortable.”

Jonny tugged his t-shirt over his head and hung it on the hook behind the door, then walked over to the armchair and sat down.  He sat stiffly, back straight and feet on the floor, hands curled around the ends of the arms.

“Hey, do you mind taking your shoes off, too?  I think it’d be a good vibe for my drawing.”

“Sure,” Jonny said, and leaned down to take them off, then sat up again.

Patrick grinned at him from behind his easel.  “Perfect.  Man, I was right about your body.  Your abs are great.  And I’m gonna have to draw your back, sometime.  I can’t believe we’re the same age and you’ve got muscles like that.”

Jonny blushed and ducked his head.  “Well, I work for it.”

Patrick hummed, picking up a pencil.  “Yeah, you do.  Now stay like that and don’t move.”

Jonny froze, head tucked down like it had been, legs spread a bit.  He started thinking about the plays they’d gone over at practice that morning, flashing through each one, and then to the game they were set to play in two days.

He didn’t realize Patrick was saying anything for a while.  But when he focused on it, Patrick was letting out a near constant stream of compliments.

“Yeah that strong jaw,” Patrick muttered, swiping his pencil across the paper.  “Perfect angle, nice definition at the hinge.  Thicker bottom lip than the top, red towards the seam, fucking beautiful, cupid’s bow, a scar there, another there, amazing, a little upturn on the nose, cute, high cheeks, so nice.”

Jonny blushed, and tried to tune him out again.  He couldn’t.  Now that he knew what Patrick was saying, he couldn’t get his mind back on hockey plays.

He peeked up at Patrick; he was looking back and forth between Jonny and the page, but he looked entirely engrossed.  Was he just complimenting his own drawing, then?  But why could he call it cute?  No, he was talking about _Jonny_ , calling him cute and amazing and _fucking beautiful_.

And where did Patrick get _that_ from?  If anything, Jonny should be saying that to Patrick, or, he thought hurriedly, Patrick should be saying it about himself.  His blond curls reflected the light and looked nice, and his eyes were a nice color, and he had nice pink lips and pale skin.  So Jonny wasn’t an artist, but he could appreciate someone’s looks, all right?  Especially when it was a boy as… _pretty_ as Patrick was.

“Do you want a break?” Patrick asked suddenly.  Jonny blinked at him.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want a break?  I finished this drawing, pretty much, so if you want to get up and stretch or anything you can do that, now.”

Jonny shook his head.  “I’m good.”

“Really?  We’ve been at it for two hours or so already.”

“Oh,” Jonny replied, shocked.

Patrick grinned.  “Seemed faster, right?”

Jonny nodded, and stood up.  “Yeah, I’m gonna stretch then.  Can I see the drawing?”

Patrick shrugged and picked up his pad.  “Yeah, if you want.  I haven’t done all the shading yet, but I’ve got a near-photographic memory, so I’m just gonna do that later.”

Jonny walked over, and his eyes widened when he saw the drawing.  It was him, all right, scars and everything, slouched in the armchair with his head down and legs spread, eyes burning out of the page.  He could tell that Patrick had a lot of skill, to make something like this, but it also looked nearly _sexual_ , with Jonny’s bare chest and the look that must have been on his face.

For some reason, his bare feet poking out from his jeans made it a lot more intimate of a picture.

“It’s good,” Jonny said.

Patrick shrugged.  “It’s fine, I mean, I still have a lot of work to do on it.”

“Patrick,” Jonny said, and looked at him.  Patrick looked back, eyebrows raised.  “It’s good.  I mean, really good.”

Patrick flushed pink, lips parting slightly.  He looked down, long eyelashes fluttering, and smiled.  “Thanks.”

Jonny sat in the armchair again.  “How do you want me this time?”

 

.oOo.

 

TJ was way too amused when he found out it was a guy who was drawing Jonny, and that he’d be a nude model.  TJ was a dick.

But when Jonny was talking more about the session, a couple days after, when he’d already set up another time with Patrick, and he drunkenly mumbled _he’s so fucking pretty, and he’s so good at art, and he kept calling me beautiful_ , TJ didn’t make fun of him.  He threw his arm around Jonny’s shoulder and shook him a few times.

“Go get him, JT!” he said loudly, but seriously.

Jonny looked over at him, confused.  “What?”

“Go get him!  Get your artist boy!”

“I’m not gay, Teej,” Jonny whined, throwing his head back.  He paused, and considered it.  “But I don’t think I would mind being gay for him.”

“Go get him,” TJ said again, and handed Jonny another beer.

“But how?” Jonny whined, holding the bottle loosely by the neck.

TJ thought for a minute.  “Your ass.  No dude-who’s-into-dudes would be able to resist that ass.”

Jonny flushed bright red.  “Really?”  He knew he had a nice ass, but it was different hearing it from girls that were trying to sleep with you than from your straight, male best friend.

TJ nodded.  “Yeah, I mean, even I’ve jerked it thinking about your ass.”

“Oh my god,” Jonny groaned, and hid his face in his hands.  “Stop talking, Teej.”

 

.oOo.

 

His next session with Patrick was two days later.  When they got into Patrick’s studio, Jonny shucked his shirt and jeans, grinning when Patrick laughed.

“Ready to move on up in the world of nude modeling?” Patrick asked, settling at his easel.

“Totally ready,” Jonny said, and peeled his boxer briefs off.  He walked over to the couch that had replaced the chair, making an effort to walk normally, even though he could feel Patrick’s eyes on him the whole time.

“How do you want me?” Jonny asked, sitting in the middle of the couch.  It was long, but not too wide, with satiny cushions and wood carving along the top.

Patrick stared at him for a moment, then grinned.  “Can you lie on your side, facing the back of the couch?  I still really want to draw your back.”

Jonny nodded, stretching out on the couch and then twisting until he was facing the back.  He stretched his legs out, until his toes just brushed the pillow against the far arm of the couch.

“Now put your top arm up over your head, bend it, like that!  And head down on the pillow there.  Perfect.  Are you comfortable like that?”

Jonny bent his right leg a little, then nodded.  “Yeah, I could stay like this for a while.”

“All right, just don’t fall asleep.”

Jonny snorted, but didn’t respond.  He couldn’t think of anything else to say besides something about not being able to fall asleep with Patrick looking at him like that, and talking about how beautiful he was.

It started up almost immediately after Jonny heard the scratch of pencil on paper.  Praises for the curve of his back, the dip at his waist, the definition in his shoulders and his bicep, the sharp slope down his side, and then—

“Your ass is the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Patrick muttered.   “I could do hundreds of pictures just of your ass, and the dimples right above it, the curve of it, the little mole…”

Jonny flushed, fighting against the urge to curl up a little more.  He expected this, sure, but to actually _hear_ it… It was completely different than hearing it from some girl, or from a drunk TJ.

And, to his embarrassment, Jonny could feel his dick hardening against the back of the couch.  This couch was not wide at all.

“And your thighs, god, they’re fucking beautiful, I can see the different muscles, and the curve down into the knee, how pale the skin is, how they cut into the curve of your ass _god_.”

Jonny bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that would distract him enough that he would _stop getting hard_.  But Patrick didn’t stop talking, going up and down Jonny’s body as he went through the outline, and the shading, and the detail.  Jonny just laid there, eyes closed, trying and failing to make his erection go down.

Finally, Patrick stopped.  “You ready for a break?”

“I’m fine to keep going,” Jonny managed to say.

“All right.  Well, let’s do a different pose.  If you can roll over onto your back—“

Jonny’s eyes widened.  “Um, you sure you don’t want more like this?”

Patrick hummed.  “Nah.  We’ll come back to it when there’s different lighting, but for now I’d like to try a different angle.”

“Really?” Jonny asked again.  “I could do something different with my arms or my legs.”

He could hear Patrick stand up.  “Jonny, come on, roll over.”

“Patrick—“ Jonny started, as Patrick walked over.  Patrick stopped right in front of the couch, and the slight gasp he let out let Jonny know that Patrick had seen.

“Sorry,” Jonny muttered, chancing a look up at Patrick.  But he didn’t look angry.  His eyes were wide, cheeks pink, and… _did he just lick his lips?_

“Roll over on your back,” Patrick said again, his voice a little raspy.  “I want… Can I draw you?  Like this?”

Jonny could feel his blushed spreading down his chest.  “Like… this?”

Patrick nodded, his eyes bright when he met Jonny’s eyes.  “Yeah.  Come on, Jonny.  I wanna draw you like this.”

“Yeah,” Jonny breathed, and shuffled onto his back.  Patrick went back to his easel, eyes back on Jonny as soon as he sat.

Jonny took a deep breath, looking over at him.

“Put your right arm over your head,” Patrick said quietly.  “And bend your right leg.  Straighten the left one out.  And put your left hand around the base.”

Jonny did what he was told, putting his left hand around the base of his cock and holding it away from his body.

“Like this?” He asked.  Patrick nodded, and started drawing.

Jonny was ready for the compliments, but he wasn’t ready enough.  Every time Patrick would talk about how pretty his cock was, the flared head, the little lean to the left, the girth, the length, Jonny could feel his cock twitch.  Patrick had to notice, he had to, especially when a bead of precome seeped out of the tip.

Patrick outright groaned, his pencil still flying over the page.

Jonny didn’t know how long he lay there, hard cock in his grip, desperate to just give himself one stroke, or two, and _come_ , but having to hold still for Patrick’s drawing.

Finally, Patrick threw his pencil down and darted around his easel.  He fell to his knees beside the couch, face inches from Jonny’s cock.

“Stroke it,” he breathed, darting a look up at Jonny’s face and then back at his cock.  Jonny groaned, sliding his fist up and down slowly, then faster and faster on each stroke, before he was bucking up into his hand and gasping.  Just as he was about to come, Patrick leaned forward and slid the head into his mouth, shocking a moan out of Jonny and making him come into his mouth.  Patrick waited until he was done coming before pulling back, swallowing all of it in his mouth, and reaching a hand down to rub himself through his jeans.

“You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are,” Patrick told him, as Jonny panted his way through the aftershocks. “The look on your face when you were about to come, and how your cock kept jerking, _god_ , and those fingers—“

“I know,” Jonny panted.  “I could hear you, when you were drawing.  What you were saying about me.”

Patrick’s eyes widened, and he groaned loudly, then slumped forward against the couch, resting his forehead on Jonny’s hip.

“You made me come in my pants,” Patrick accused weakly.

Jonny snorted.  “Boohoo.”

Patrick lifted his head just enough to scowl at Jonny.  “See if I swallow next time, asshole.”

Jonny blushed, and reached a hand out for him.  Patrick scooted closer, until Jonny could lean over and kiss him gently.  Patrick kissed back, curling a hand around Jonny’s bicep.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jonny told him, running his thumb over Patrick’s cheek.  He blushed, and kissed Jonny again.

 

.oOo.

 

Jonny didn’t want to tell TJ that it kind of was his ass that got him Patrick, but, well… he had to introduce Patrick and TJ at some point.  And Patrick took great glee in telling TJ about Jonny’s surprise erection.

TJ took great glee in saying ‘I told you so’ for the rest of the week.

Jonny took great glee in bringing Patrick to the edge over and over and not letting him come for hours as revenge.

 

.oOo.

 

The drawings Patrick had done of Jonny became part of an exhibit, once there was a whole series of them.  There was Jonny in the armchair, chest and feet bare.  Jonny on the couch, facing away with nothing on.  A few they’d done later, of him half-reclining on the couch, or sitting sideways on the armchair, and even a couple on a wooden chair.  And, at the end of the exhibit, was the one of Jonny, flat on his back on the couch, hand around his cock and toes curling, staring straight out of the paper.

**Author's Note:**

> It was for this prompt from my lovely former roommate Oliver: Poor college grad or college student or HS grad idec answers an ad for a life model bc "fuck it I will answer every damn ad I am qualified for". The artist hires them immediately but has a penchant for lots and lots of compliments, which makes the model blush horrendously and it's all super cute. The artist only intends to make one thing, but wants to keep the model there, so makes lots of things, and gives the model a cut of the sale. Probably they fall in love and model finds dream job or s/t  
> I only barely answered that prompt, and in a fandom that Oliver is not a part of. I'm sorry, friend.
> 
> posted on tumblr (somethingnerdythiswaycomes)


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